


Realizations

by Eyrmia



Series: Random Pairing Shorts [7]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyrmia/pseuds/Eyrmia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet/Arcee</p><p>Optimus entered the base a moment later, carrying a limp frame in his servos. Raf shut his computer and ran up to the rail, worry etched on his face. The Prime gently laid Arcee on a nearby medical berth, then took a step back. Raf realized that he had no idea what to do. Bumblebee took the initiative and began hooking an IV up to the femme, then ran to the medibay and grabbed Ratchet’s first aid kit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a suggestion Greendogg made.

“Doc, open the Bridge!”

Rafael frowned and opened the commlink on his computer. “Sorry, Bulkhead, but Ratchet is taking June to work. I’ll open it for you,” he said, typing in the command. The vortex spun to life, admitting Bulkhead and Bumblebee into the base. The latter’s optics were spiraled wide anxiously.

Optimus entered the base a moment later, carrying a limp frame in his servos. Raf shut his computer and ran up to the rail, worry etched on his face. The Prime gently laid Arcee on a nearby medical berth, then took a step back. Raf realized that he had no idea what to do. Bumblebee took the initiative and began hooking an IV up to the femme, then ran to the medibay and grabbed Ratchet’s first aid kit.

“Rafael, please contact Ratchet,” Optimus said, turning to the boy, “as well as Jack.” Raf nodded and fished his phone out of his pocket. Within ten minutes, Ratchet came roaring into the base. He stopped to let Jack out, then transformed and walked briskly up to Arcee’s berth.

“Roll her over to the medibay,” he commanded. “Once she’s in there, I want everyone but Rafael and Bumblebee to leave.” Jack began to protest, but the medic shot him a warning look, and he immediately went quiet.

Once everyone had gone, Ratchet began issuing orders to Bumblebee and Rafael.

“Quick, bring me those clamps! No, the  _gray_ ones. Good, now–” he froze as the femme twitched, one optic opening wearily. He gestured to Bumblebee. “Grab those dampeners out of the cabinet!” The scout was gone and back in an instant, a cluster of small, circular magnets in his palm.

Ratchet grabbed the magnets and attached them to multiple points on Arcee’s ventral plating. They sent out an EM pulse, nullifying all sensors within the boundaries they set. The medic engaged his welder and began to work. After a few moments, he ushered Bumblebee and Rafael out of the medibay so he could have peace.

Hours passed, and the rest of the team saw chevron nor servo of their medic, though they did hear his cursing and muttering. Eventually Miko and June arrived, and the latter rushed in to help her Autobot counterpart.

By midnight, the kids were fast asleep on the couch, though Jack awoke every thirty minutes to ask about his partner. June exited the medibay an hour later and promptly collapsed on the couch beside Miko, though Ratchet still did not emerge. Bumblebee and Bulkhead began a sad attempt at basketball, and Optimus took up monitor duty.

Finally, at 3:00 AM, Optimus left his place at the computer and entered the medibay. He was immediately greeted with a wrench to the helm and a “get out of my medibay!” The Prime ignored the request and walked up to Ratchet, putting a servo on his shoulder.

“Perhaps you should rest, old friend.”

“Perhaps you should move your aft out of here at hyperspeed,  _old friend_ ,” the medic snarked back, never stopping his work on his patient. Optimus sighed.

“Please don’t make me pull rank,” he warned.

“I rank highest on medical matters, Optimus, and this  _is_ a medical matter.”

The Prime narrowed his optics and frowned, but he knew better than to push the doctor. He would try again later.

“Later” being 9:00 AM. Bulkhead and Bumblebee had taken the children to school, and had gone to their quarters for some recharge immediately after returning. June tried to call in a vacation day, but was denied and had to take her car to work anyway, leaving Optimus alone. The Prime pulled away from the computer and once again entered the medibay.

“Optimus…I told you…” Ratchet growled, but was too weary to finish his threat. Optimus grasped the medic’s shoulder and began to pull him away, despite his protests, and turned him around so they were face-to-face.

“Get some rest,” he ordered sternly, optics narrowed. “I do not care if you rank higher than me on this – you will not be able to help Arcee if you collapse of fatigue.” As if to prove his point, Ratchet began to sway on his pedes. Optimus steadied him with a servo, then helped him back to the medical berth. “Finish what you were doing and go to your quarters. I will notify you of any changes in her condition.”

The medic nodded sluggishly and began to wrap up his work, then allowed Optimus to guide him out of the medibay and to his quarters. Once the Prime was sure Ratchet was in power down, he returned to the computer, where Bumblebee and Bulkhead were waiting.

“You know, boss,” Bulkhead muttered, “you should get some rest too. We can manage the computer and keep an optic on ‘Cee while you recharge.”

Optimus opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from Bumblebee changed his mind. “Very well,” he agreed, nodding, then turned and made his way to his own quarters. 

* * *

“How are you feeling?” Ratchet asked, tilting his helm. Arcee rolled her shoulder back, then stretched each of her servos.

“I feel alright,” she finally murmured, touching a digit to her ventral plating. As she made contact, a grimace passed over her faceplate. “Though that’s going to take a while to stop hurting.”

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll get you some dampeners.” After placing the magnets around the tender spot on the femme’s armor, Ratchet leaned back and rubbed his servos together. “Better?”

“Much.” Arcee raised an optic ridge at the medic, and a confused look came over his faceplates.

“What?”

“I heard from Optimus that you stayed up until 9:00,” she said quietly, grabbing her shoulder nervously.

“I wanted to make sure you would be alright,” Ratchet answered, attempting to brush it off.

“I just…I wanted to thank you.”

“It’s my job,” he said, waving his servo. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t get enough credit for what you do.” The words were out before she could stop them. Ratchet’s faceplate contorted into one of shock.

“I– Really?” he asked incredulously, and she nodded, faceplate tinting blue. He smiled softly, surprising her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How many times have your patients shown you their appreciation?” she inquired, tilting her helm.

“Counting just now? I…” He trailed off, thinking. “I could probably count on my digits the exact number,” he finally admitted.

Arcee frowned. “That’s not right.” He turned his helm away, biting his lip plating nervously, and a spear of sorrow struck Arcee’s spark. She scooted forward on the berth, putting a servo on Ratchet’s own. His optics widened and his helm snapped in her direction, and that’s when she leaned in to nuzzle his cheek plate. “I mean it.  _Thank you_ ,” she whispered.

“I–” He reset his voicebox with a burst of static. Arcee gave him a cheeky grin, then hopped off the berth and began to head for the exit. “Hey!” Ratchet protested, grabbing her elbow.

“Huh?” she asked instinctively, freezing in place.

“You don’t just do that and walk away!” he said, glaring at her. “Well,” he then muttered, “y-you at least allow them to…reciprocate.” Arcee’s optics widened at his request, and then she nodded. He placed both his servos on her shoulders, bending forward and pressing his chevron to her helm spike, optics dimmed. After a moment he pulled away, smirking rakishly.

Arcee went weak at the knees for a second, before straightening her posture and returning the smile. “Well, doctor,” she said silkily, “I suppose I should be off, then. When is my next appointment?”

“Check back in four hours,” he replied, that infuriating grin still on his faceplate. “Your dampeners will be in need of charge,” he then added, surly demeanor returning. Arcee nodded, a small seed of disappointment burrowing into her spark, but Ratchet was still a medic, and as such had to care for his patients.

“I’ll be there.”

“Make sure you’re on time,” he called as she began to leave. “And take this,” he added, sending her a datapacket. She opened it, surprised and delighted to find that it was his private commlink code. He cast her a knowing smile before returning to his work.


End file.
